[Congressional Record (Bound Edition), Volume 160 (2014), Part 8]
[Senate]
[Page 11561]
[From the U.S. Government Publishing Office, www.gpo.gov]




                           SALUTING THE FLAG

  Mr. REID. Mr. President, yesterday I mentioned to the Senate that I 
had been reading a book by Caroline Kennedy called ``A Patriot's 
Handbook.'' I have been looking at the book. It was given to my wife 
for Mother's Day a number of years ago.
  I mentioned yesterday that I read about one of John McCain's 
experiences in a Vietnam prison camp. It will take me just a minute and 
a half or so to read this, but this is what I paraphrased yesterday 
that I will read today. It is ``The Mike Christian Story'' by Senator 
John McCain in his book ``Faith of Our Fathers.''

       Mike was a Navy Bombardier-navigator who had been shot down 
     in 1967, about 6 months before I arrived. He had grown up 
     near Selma, Alabama. His family was poor. He had not worn 
     shoes until he was 13 years old. Character was their wealth. 
     They were good, righteous people, and they raised Mike to be 
     hardworking and loyal. He was 17 when he enlisted in the 
     Navy. As a young sailor, he showed promise as a leader and 
     impressed his superiors enough to be offered a commission.
       What packages we were allowed to receive from our families 
     often contained handkerchiefs, scarves, and other clothing 
     items. For some time, Mike had been taking little scraps of 
     red and white cloth, and with a needle he had fashioned from 
     a piece of bamboo he laboriously sewed an American flag into 
     the inside of his prisoner's shirt. Every afternoon, before 
     we ate our soup, we would hang Mike's flag on the wall of our 
     cell and together recite the Pledge of Allegiance. No other 
     event of the day had as much meaning to us.
       The guards discovered Mike's flag one afternoon during a 
     routine inspection and confiscated it. They returned that 
     evening and took Mike outside. For our benefit as much as 
     Mike's, they beat him severely, just outside our cell, 
     puncturing his eardrum and breaking several of his ribs. When 
     they finished, they dragged him bleeding and nearly senseless 
     back into our cell, and we helped him crawl to his place on 
     the sleeping platform. After things quieted down, we all lay 
     down to go to sleep. Before drifting off, I happened to look 
     toward a corner of the room, where one of the four naked 
     light bulbs that were always illuminated in our cell cast a 
     dim light on Mike Christian. He had crawled there when he 
     thought the rest of us were sleeping. With his eyes nearly 
     swollen shut from the beating, he had quietly picked up his 
     needle and thread and begun sewing a new flag.
       I witnessed many acts of heroism in prison, but none braver 
     than that. As I watched him, I felt a surge of pride at 
     serving with him, and an equal measure of humility for 
     lacking that extra ration of courage that distinguished Mike 
     Christian from other men.

  I mentioned this yesterday because I had it in my mind when we 
saluted the flag. I said yesterday--and I will repeat and paraphrase 
today--when we salute the flag, we should remember the Mike Christians 
of the world who sacrificed so much so that we can salute the flag.

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